


Ghostwhite

by ProwlingThunder



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Species Swap, Gen, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Wolves, Mandalorians are Wolves, Psychic Wolves, Psychic Wolves For Lupercalia, giant wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: They're white, that's the thing that sticks with Obi-wan.





	Ghostwhite

They're white, that's the thing that sticks with Obi-wan as the scientists lead him down the halls, exalting the abilities of the clone army (clone army?) they have provided for the Jedi. When he asks about the base, he's told about the sire-- the  _ progenitor, _ a Mandalorian wolf-lord who is no color anywhere near white, when he finally gets to look at him. He's massive, barely able to fit through the Kaminoan doorways, with a silvery pelt of shocking alien blues about the joints, for a facemask.

The locals call him Jango-- that's a spoke-name, Jango, of Fett lineage, and Obi-wan  _ knows _ that name with a surprising certainty (years ago there was one at the side of the Mandalore. Years and years ago there was a war and the effects of it are still felt to this day. Obi-wan knows the name; every youngling hears the stories) but he knows enough of Mandalorian wolf-lords to know the spoken name doesn't matter.

Obi-wan has always had a certain bond with large and terrifying predators, however, so he offers out his own name, one given to him by a wolf-lord (a lady) with a fair coat,  _ fresh spring growth in bloodstained dust, _ a name unsuited for a Jedi but  _ his _ name, even still, as much his the one he'd been granted in the creche.

Jango Fett presses a large blue nose against his outstretched fingers and it's nearly bigger than his hand, and he has barely a moment to ball the fear up and throw it into the Force before there's an explosion of scent in his own nose and--

_ Pine, _ he recognized immediately. Nothing in the universe smelled quite like it. There are other scents mixed in, not as strong but still present, until the name resolves itself;  _ citrus and hot cordite in rough pinewood.  _ It brings to mind a Mandalorian's mourning-bowl, shaped by claws and teeth to honor the fallen.

He's only seen one once. He wants to see one never again. (There are packs upon packs in this facility. He fears he will see far too many.)

Everything goes well enough between Jango and Obi-wan until the appearance of the boy-pup from another room, and that's when Obi-wan's presence must flip the protective instincts all the way up, because that's when things really go downhill, a Jedi in the den of a Mandalorian with the wolf's only pup.

(He's a father to the others, but not really. He never had a chance to claim their rights, Obi-wan knows, the moment Jango snaps in his direction and the Coruscanti back-peddles, nearly falls out the door. The Kaminos traded Jango one pup for an army of bleached-pale, and when he sees them he probably sees ghosts, not Mandalorians. Obi-wan doesn't think Mandalorians come in white naturally. Not that much white.)

(The Mandalorian wolves know their history better than any Jedi in the universe, stories transferred down matrilineally, memory to memory. The army of pale wolves has no chance of that, born inside tubes and suckled on who knows what. The boy-pup might be the only one who has a chance of knowing. The Kaminoans number him, the way they do all their clones, but he's protected in here with Jango, and Obi-wan knows enough to know the pup has a  _ name. _ )

 

The Senate makes the Jedi into generals, and all Obi-wan's soldiers are white, at first, white without  _ names _ or an understanding of what they are, each knowing a series of numbers and letters that Obi-wan can't readily apply to Mandalorians.

Eventually though, their colors come in, and Obi-wan reaches out to accept his cloak from a clone-wolf's massive maw, and Cody--

_ Do you have a name? _

_ CC-2224, sir. _

_ No. A  _ **_name,_ ** and he pressed his own, the Agricorp and Melida/Daan, and the wolf balked and they spoke very little for the next thirteen days before,

_ Should I have a name? _

_ Every Mandalorian wolf-lord has a name. _

_ Mandalorian? _

_ Your father was one. _

_ Then I want one. Give me one. _

_ Very well then. _

\--and Cody, who had always been  _ clean sterility _ like every one of his brothers, who is now grown and has never known a mother, bought and bred to be a soldier, who Obi-wan reached out and gently gave him a name,  _ rough pinewood and wet riverstones--  _ and Cody lowered his head and let the Jedi run his hands along the growing orange stripe down his head and framing his eyes, the barest vestiges of his sire's mask.

He isn't ghost-white, anymore. He isn’t Jango’s silver, or Kamino’s bleach-pale. He’s  _ Obi-wan’s, _ and he’ll tell him everything neither of their mothers ever could.


End file.
